I have long been an admirer of Desmond Tutu. I first learned of him in high school while studying apartheid, the life of Nelson Mandela, and the film The Power of One based on the novel by Bryce Courtenay. This message, which I have in poster form in my classroom, resonates with me more and more each day.
Anger and I have been acquainted for years. Frustrated at having to take home thirteen consecutive spelling tests in third grade—not because the words were misspelled but because my penmanship was poor—I called my teacher a bitch. She certainly was not one, and I found myself in my elementary school counselor’s office telling my woes to a dolphin puppet named Duso. It was the beginning of my love affair with therapy, and I am so grateful that my parents knew it was what I needed.
I think I was born with an extra chromosome for injustice, and when I am passionate about something and feel I cannot change or improve some broken aspect of it, the liquid rage fire races through my veins.
I have been working on it. I read about how to breathe through what I can’t change. I practice mindfulness. I focus on what is within my control. I talk to Michael about it. What a gift his listening is. And I think about and implement all the techniques I learned in my time in therapy. I do not like raised voices, so I try never to raise mine.
And, thankfully, I have found that I don’t have to. I am direct and honest which some people misread as rude, surprised—as they often are—to meet a woman who isn’t interested in making them comfortable. And I am absolutely willing to be wrong. I have no problem admitting my faults, and I am devoted to making the world better if I can. I’m not a benevolent goddess by any stretch, but I genuinely want to do well.
My faith is very personal; I don’t speak about it much, but what I believe in my heart is that I am called to love as many people as I can, and the best way to love someone is to teach them something that makes their life better. I don’t know how to do that with a raised voice.
I have come to find safety and security in asking questions, gaining new information, and using that information to make better decisions. I use my arguments, when I make them, as an example of how to stand up for myself, the people I care about, and the issues that matter to me. I hope that’s how I am perceived.
Of course, there are days when it hurts to care as much as I do, but the alternative is to feel nothing, and that’s just not who I am.
Thank goodness.
Shannon Carriger 